why do we punish our bodies for doing what they're supposed to be doing?
for being the way they're supposed to be?
we're in a constant battle with our nature,
stuck eternally on the losing side
because we have the
preposterous inability to realize
that we're the ones that look ridiculous,
so why can't we stop?
accept defeat and act like the animals we are?
YOU ARE READING
maybe i'm dreaming (COMPLETED)
Poetrya sky full of poems, none of which connect (stars without constellations) this is a compilation of almost every aspect of my life in poems, as well as some fictional elements too i hope you enjoy my cemetery of secrets -lowercase is intended for sty...
